


(A New Twist) Just For One Night

by AetherSeer



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Relationship Negotiation, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Washington Capitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherSeer/pseuds/AetherSeer
Summary: In all the time he’s been with Alex, Alex has never expressed interest in anyone else. Then again, to Nicklas’ knowledge, Alex has never been offered a no-strings-attached offer for a threesome with both of them invited.“I’ll think about it,” Nicklas says.





	(A New Twist) Just For One Night

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece has been sitting in my WIP folder for far too long. It's a little fitting to publish it now.

After a year of attempting to ignore Alex and two years of dating Alex, Nicklas is used to Alex’s brand of enthusiasm—the constant showers of physical affection and effusive praise, the disregard for Nicklas’ personal space, the demand for Nicklas’ attention, and the sheer devotion he’s given in return.

This, however, is not something Nicklas has ever encountered before.

Alex watches him, blue eyes fixated on Nicklas’ face, searching. What for, Nicklas isn’t sure. His mind is working overtime, shuffling logistics and balancing shock with curiosity with hurt with confusion.

“Why?” he finally asks.

Alex opens his mouth, closes it, and visibly changes what he’d been about to say. “Is not saying you’re not enough. Know this, Nicky. If you say ‘no,’ then answer is ‘no.’ You come first. _Always_ come first. Always enough for me. But … he ask. He offer. And I say I think about and ask you.”

Nicklas turns Alex’s words over in his head. In all the time he’s been with Alex, Alex has never expressed interest in anyone else. Then again, to Nicklas’ knowledge, Alex has never been offered a no-strings-attached offer for a threesome with _both_ of them invited.

“He knew we’re together when he offered?”

Alex nods, stubbled cheek brushing against the pillow. His fingers drum against Nicklas’ exposed side. “He was very clear. Offer only good if _both_ of us okay with threesome.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nicklas says.

 

T.J. Oshie is a bounding ball of energy and smiles, a transfer from some university in the Midwest. One of the Dakotas, Nicklas recalls. He’s a junior, but has yet to pick a major. He’s in Alex’s economics class, and possibly the only reason Alex isn’t literally sleeping his way through the 8 a.m. course. And he’s clearly smart, considering the first thing he does upon meeting Nicklas that Thursday morning is hand Nicklas a steaming to-go cup of coffee.

It’s good coffee. Nicklas mentally tallies a point in his favor.

“Alex told me you propositioned him.” Nicklas cuts straight to the point. He gets a startled blink and a wide-eyed stare as T.J. tries not to choke on his own coffee.

“Okay,” T.J. finally wheezes out. “Are you here to murder me for hitting on your boyfriend?”

Nicklas takes a moment to consider, but, “No.” T.J. relaxes in his seat. “That’d be messy, and too much work to clean up.”

T.J. snorts, and a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You want to know why.”

Nicklas takes a sip of coffee.

T.J. leans forward and lowers his voice. “You don’t have to say yes,” he says quietly. He’s all earnestness. “I’m not gonna be offended if you tell me to fuck off and keep my eyes to myself.”

Nicklas raises an eyebrow. “And if I told you I’m considering it?”

T.J. waggles his eyebrows. “I’m all ears,” he promises. “Ovi alone is hot, in a scruffy-looking nerf-herding way, and you’re scary as all hell, which is a turn-on, weirdly enough. And the two of you together?”

Nicklas hums quietly. It’s an odd compliment, to be sure, but he’s come to realize that Americans are pretty odd to begin with. And T.J. is very much American, from the way he talks to the way he slurps his coffee.

Nicklas pushes an errant lock of hair behind his ear and sips his coffee, this time blatantly giving T.J. the once-over. T.J. grins at him, sure and easy, more relaxed and confident than Nicklas would be in his place. Then again, Nicklas has never once considered asking for a threesome, let alone asking to join an established couple.

“It’s not a yes,” Nicklas says, “but it’s not a no, either.”

T.J.’s smile is bright. “That’s totally cool, man. You just let me know, yeah?”

 

Nicklas doesn’t see T.J. again until two weeks later, when he’s meeting Alex in the quad after his own morning class gets out. They’ve texted a few times—after Nicklas stole T.J.’s number from Alex’s phone—but Nicklas hasn’t mentioned the threesome, and T.J. hasn’t brought it up.

T.J.’s smile is as sunny as before, and it only widens when he sees Nicklas. “Backy!” he crows.

Nicklas dodges a cluster of freshmen playing catch with a half-full water bottle as he makes his way over. Alex sweeps him into a hug upon approaching, and Nicklas squirms, trying to free at least one arm to return the gesture. “I pass midterm, Nicky! You promise, if I pass …”

Oh. _Oh._ Well, there go his weekend plans, since Alex is bound and determined to host the “baby Russians, Nicky. So cute. Must introduce to American shit liquor.” Nicky hadn’t argued much; it’s not like he doesn’t have his own ragtag group of Swedish undergraduates over every other weekend. It’d be oftener, but Nicky’s put his foot down on Andre’s blatant begging and limited the kid’s dinner invites to once a week.

Once Nicklas manages to wiggle free of Alex’s clutches and his feet are once more safely on the ground, he glances back at T.J. “We should meet up, all three of us. Talk about boundaries, ground rules.”

T.J. literally fist-pumps the air.

Alex’s head whips around, incredulous blue eyes wide. “You serious, Nicky?” he murmurs, soft enough for Nicklas, but not T.J., to hear.

Nicklas shrugs. “You were thinking about it, or you wouldn’t have told me.” That in and of itself had intrigued Nicklas, enough that he’d considered T.J.’s proposition over the last two weeks.

 

Laying out the ground rules was easy enough; Alex and Nicklas aren’t into anything most would consider kinky, and T.J.’s only request was that he leave their bed with a visible reminder. But once they’ve set a date (a rare weekend Nicklas has staked out their apartment as unavailable to either of their flocks of undergraduate ducklings), Nicklas can’t help the nervous tension running through his days.

Alex notices, because of course he does. And he’s dreadfully unsubtle about noticing, wrapping his arms around Nicklas from behind in their tiny kitchen Wednesday morning. His chin digs into Nicklas’ shoulder. He blows a noisy breath against Nicklas’ ear. Nicklas squirms.

“Why you so worry? Is just T.J. If you want say ‘no,’ he’ll understand.”

Which is why Nicklas finds himself hesitating to call the whole thing off. T.J. _would_ understand, and he’s the kind of guy who will continue being friends and a _good_ friend, at that.

But … Nicklas can’t say he doesn’t want to _try_ , either. Because he does. The idea of seeing Alex with T.J. takes his breath away, if only because T.J. is so _different_ than Nicklas himself. T.J. is something new, some _one_ new, and someone who isn’t interested in changing _Nicky and Alex_. Just … adding a new twist for a single night.

Nicklas twists in Alex’s arms, setting his cheek against Alex’s broad shoulder. His fingers dig into the softness at Alex’s hips that Alex has never quite been able to get rid of. “Just nervous,” he says. “I’ve never done this before.”

He feels Alex press a kiss to his hair. “We do together. Have fun.”

 

Friday comes in a whirlwind of papers due and a trio of upset ducklings deep in the misery of freshman-year homesickness. It’s almost nice, having the distractions to keep him from overthinking his weekend plans.

T.J. takes in their room with a grin. Nicklas takes a second look at the haphazard effort to clean, and mentally winces. The living room and kitchen are almost always presentable, but neither Nicklas nor Alex care much about clothes on the floor of their bedroom. At least the majority of them are clean, if piled rather than put away. Nicklas just now notices the very visible half-full bottle of lube sitting out on the desk that serves as Alex’s catch-all of a nightstand and closes his eyes. Well, they tried.

T.J. spins to look back at where Alex and Nicklas are still hovering at the bedroom door. “So, how do you wanna do this?” he asks.

Nicklas … doesn’t know. He glances at Alex; Alex raises a heavy eyebrow. “What you want?” Alex finally asks T.J. “This—” he gestures between Nicklas, T.J., and himself “—we never done before. Newbies, you know?”

T.J.—there’s really no other word for it— _bounces_ over to grab Nicklas’ hand and drag him into the room. “We can try just kissing. See if you like it.”

Nicklas knows his slight panic is showing on his face when Alex ducks his head to press a stubbly kiss to his cheek. “Is okay, Nicky. I’m right here.”

 

T.J.’s smaller than Nicklas. T.J.’s sturdily built, and he’s got ropey muscle beneath his T-shirt, but Nicklas easily has an inch or two on him. And with Alex pressed up against Nicklas’ back, T.J. seems strangely delicate in comparison.

T.J. kisses differently from Alex. He smiles against Nicklas’ lips, laughs when their noses bump. The inch Nicklas has on him is enough that Nicklas has to tip his chin down rather than up. It changes the angle enough that Nicklas can’t forget who he’s kissing.

Nicklas accidentally bites T.J.’s lower lip when Alex slips a hand around to rest low on his belly, but when he tries to draw back and apologize, he doesn’t get far. Alex ends up supporting all three of them when T.J. overbalances chasing Nicklas’ mouth. Luckily, Alex is built like a Russian tank.

“Maybe bed is better for kissing,” Alex says. His hands squeeze lightly at Nicklas’ hips. Nicklas opens his mouth to disagree—he’s still not quite sure what he’s comfortable with—and makes the mistake of looking at T.J.

T.J.’s watching the two of them patiently. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this sorta thing,” T.J. says with a shrug, pushing messy hair away from his face. “Some guys don’t want to do anything other than kiss. Some guys are really into watching.”

Alex’s arms tighten around Nicklas’ waist. Nicklas loses his breath for a minute as Alex drops a kiss on his hair. It’s _always_ the hair with Alex; Nicklas thinks Alex would actually _cry_ if Nicklas were to ever cut it.

But T.J’s waiting, not even moving toward the bed without their permission. Nicklas appreciates the thoughtfulness of the gesture. But they _had_ washed the sheets with the intent of maybe messing them up, so Nicklas pries his way out of Alex’s embrace.

 

Nicklas was right about Alex and T.J. They make a beautiful picture spread out on Nicklas and Alex’s bed, hands wandering over skin, mouths pressing against one another in short, gasping kisses. Alex’s fingers tangle in T.J.’s hair, angling his head for a better angle. T.J. pauses, then deliberately pulls against Alex’s grip.

“You like?” Alex rumbles. He tugs T.J.’s hair again, testing. T.J.’s spine arches, his throat bared for Alex to place a bruising kiss. Alex takes his time worrying a hickey into T.J.’s collarbone, nipping at and trailing smaller kisses over that thin, sensitive skin. T.J., for his part, grinds against Alex’s thick thigh, letting out little pleased noises.

Nicklas sets a knee to the bedspread, his left hand skimming down T.J.’s spine. He taps T.J.’s hip over his briefs, a silent asking for permission. T.J. tips his head back into Alex’s grip, eyes slitting open. “You want me naked, Backy?”

Nicklas flicks his eyes to Alex, who’s watching him back. Nicklas looks back at T.J. “I want _both_ of you naked,” he says.

Alex lets go of T.J.’s hair to shimmy his shorts down and off, kicking them to the side. Nicklas can and does appreciate his boyfriend’s aversion to clothing, and now’s no exception. He wants to trace the line of Alex’s sternum, tease at his flat nipples until they tighten beneath his fingers. He wants to flatten his palm against the tattoo over Alex’s ribs and bite at the ridge of his hip bone. He wants to wrap his fingers around that thick cock and cup the heavy curve of Alex’s ass.

Alex, wonderful, observant Alex, catches Nicklas watching and stretches just a little. Nicklas licks his lips. T.J.—who Nicklas had forgotten about for a moment—makes an appreciative noise. “Fuck, that’s a sight.”

Nicklas agrees. T.J.’s not exactly a hardship to look at either. Even this late in the semester, he’s got a hint of summer sun to his skin. Nicklas doesn’t see a tan line, either, which implies ... “You sunbathe nude?”

T.J.’s grin grows. He locks his arms together above his head and shifts his weight to lie flat on his back. His thighs fall just that little bit further apart. His cock’s flushed, lying hard against his inner thigh. “You don’t?”

 _No,_ Nicklas wants to say. He doesn’t. Nicklas tugs his shirt over his head instead of answering, dropping it to the floor. His jeans are far too tight, his fingers clumsy on the buttons.

The bed shifts beneath him; Alex resettling his weight against T.J.’s side. Alex’s hand drops to Nicklas’s hip, a familiar weight. Nicklas shudders … takes a breath. His jeans cooperate, and join his shirt on the floor. He doesn’t look at the two men on the bed as he tugs off his socks, but then pauses, thumbs tucked in the waistband of his briefs.

T.J. gives him that easy smile, calm and confident. And Alex … Alex will follow Nicklas’ lead. If Nicklas wants this to stop, it will.

His briefs join the pile of clothes on the floor.

 

Nicklas ends up on his back, T.J.’s thighs spread wide across Nicklas’ hips. From here, Nicklas has a fantastic view of the flush high on T.J.’s cheeks and spreading blotchily across his chest. When T.J. shivers and drops his head to Nicklas’ shoulder, Nicklas can see straight down the expanse of T.J.’s back to where Alex kneels between their entwined legs.

T.J.’s ass is fantastic from this angle, and Nicklas, judging from the look on Alex’s face, is willing to bet Alex’s view is even better. Alex quirks a smile at Nicklas. _Still okay?_ Nicklas’ lips twitch. _Still okay._

Alex reaches over, slicks up his fingers. Nicklas angles his head down and over, catches T.J.’s mouth with his once more. T.J. sighs into the kiss, somehow sinking more into Nicklas. Nicklas, for his part, skims a hand down T.J.’s side and then wiggles it between their bodies to get a grip on both their cocks.

T.J. whines against Nicklas’ mouth, then groans. He jerks minutely, and his hips roll, fucking into Nicklas’ fist. Nicklas nips at T.J.’s lower lip, tugging. T.J. drops his head to Nicklas’ shoulder again, panting against Nicklas’ throat. Nicklas wants to bite the bared skin of T.J.’s shoulder. So he does, hard enough to leave little white imprints of a perfect ring of teeth.

Nicklas can hear the crinkle of foil, can see Alex’s look of concentration as he lines himself up. Alex leans forward, taps T.J.’s side. “All good? You ready?” God, Nicklas loves this man.

T.J. gets an elbow under him, leveraging himself up just enough to look over his shoulder at Alex and flash that All-American grin. “Go for it, babe. I want everything you got.”

T.J. focuses back on Nicklas then, eyes bright. Nicklas tightens his grip, admires the blissed-out look on T.J.’s face and the way his mouth widens to an “o” as Alex sinks inside. T.J. drops his head, breathes, hips stuttering, like he doesn’t know if he should push back into Alex or forward into Nicklas. Nicklas gets his free hand in T.J.’s hair, tugs firmly at the sweat-damp strands.

Nicklas doesn’t have to worry about keeping a rhythm once Alex starts moving. He just has to keep his fingers where they are, and Alex’s hips do the work. Nicklas drags T.J.’s head up by the hair, slotting their mouths together.

Alex groans, thrusts going choppy. He stutters to a stop, chest heaving. T.J. twitches when Alex pulls out to dispose of the condom. Nicklas rolls them over, pinning T.J. against the sheets and rutting down against the cradle of T.J.’s pelvis. The skin between them is slick with sweat and lube and precome; Nicklas can feel his orgasm coming up on him.

He thumbs over the head of T.J.’s cock, bites down hard just above T.J.’s nipple. T.J. shouts and arches up, spine bowing. Nicklas swears, the Swedish falling off his tongue. He turns his head, catches Alex’s heated gaze, and comes.

 

T.J. is pliant afterward, all hazy smiles and long affectionate touches as they clean up. Alex strips the sheets as Nicklas scrubs the worst of the mess off his body. T.J. presses light kisses to whichever part of Nicklas is closest, clinging close. Nicklas would mind, but T.J. _had_ given them fair warning about his post-coital cuddliness.

And it’s nice, too, to have someone to hold as Alex spoons up behind Nicklas in their bed. It’s not something Nicklas necessarily needs, but it’s … it’s nice. T.J. tucks his head into Nicklas’ chest; Alex buries his face in Nicklas’ hair.

Nicklas will undoubtedly wake up sweating and overheated, but that’s a problem for future Nicklas. For now, he’s going to fucking sleep.

 

Nicklas wakes up when the bed shakes, coming to with a mouthful of hair and Alex’s snoring in his ear. He startles when a hand—not Alex’s, whose—curls around his wrist where it’s draped over the body in front of him.

T.J. wiggles out from under Nicklas’ arm—Nicklas isn’t sure T.J. knows Nicklas is awake—and pads out of the bedroom. He doesn’t grab his clothes from the floor.

Nicklas sees the yellow light from the bathroom flick on, and the outline of T.J.’s shadow in the hallway before the door closes. The toilet flushes; the pipes protest their lot in life. T.J. walks back into the bedroom, hair crushed flat on one side from sleeping.

T.J. rummages through the mess of clothes on the floor, coming up with his briefs. He glances at the bed. “Hey, babe,” he says, noticing Nicklas. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Nicklas yawns, pats the bed. “Sleep. Don’t leave yet.”

Alex snuffles against Nicklas’ hair, tingers tightening on Nicklas’ hip. T.J. slides onto the bed; Nicklas settles an arm over the dip of T.J.’s waist. “You sure you’re okay with … all this? I can leave, you know,” T.J. whispers.

Nicklas yawns again. “I’m sure. We talked, you know. Alex wants to make you breakfast as a thank-you.”

“Oh.” T.J.’s quiet for a moment, and then he smiles again. A surprised, but happy smile, Nicklas thinks. “I like breakfast.”


End file.
